


Not that Bad

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-15
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 10 years of cursed Valentine’s Day and one that isn’t. Future-ish***Probably TMI, but each of the calamitous things Quinn does to Rachel in this fic, my husband and I have done to each other by mistake. So it can happen. lol. It’s not funny. But it kind of is. But mostly because he and I are still alive.





	Not that Bad

**Title:** Not that Bad  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R, maybe  
**Length:** 10,000  
**Spoilers:** Through Sectionals, includes some spoilers I read for the upcoming season, but nothing too in-depth. Seriously.  
**Summary:** 10 years of cursed Valentine’s Day and one that isn’t. Future-ish

 

* * *

 

**2020**

  
“So, Valentine’s Day is coming up,” Rachel commented.

Quinn looked at her cautiously. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“I was thinking,” Rachel said.

“Really?” Quinn broke in before Rachel could say anything. “You finally tried it? Did you like it?”

Rachel gave her a small grin. “I was thinking this could be the year to break the Valentine’s Day jinx. I mean, it’s a new decade, and you know what they say, every ten years, it’s like a fresh start.”

Quinn looked at Rachel skeptically. “Who says that?”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “ _People_. Look, last year, we tried barricading ourselves and it still--”

Quinn winced. “I thought we agreed never to bring that up!”

“And I didn’t! For a whole year. But I was thinking and--”

“No.” Quinn cut in. “Every year, it’s a _disaster_ and--”

“It’s not so bad.”

Quinn looked at her in askance. “In the last ten years we spent Valentine’s Day together, I…” Quinn pouted and held up her right hand so that all five of her fingers pointed upward. “I put you in the hospital in five of them.” She held up her left thumb. “I cracked your tooth.” She held up her left index finger. “I crashed your car.” She held up her left middle finger. “I threw up on you.” She held up her left ring finger. “I set fire to your apartment.” She held up her pinky finger. “And I flooded it. What part of that isn’t a disaster?”

“Aww,” Rachel said, looking more amused than angry. She quickly hugged Quinn, her arms wrapping around Quinn’s waist. “It’s okay,” she said comfortingly. “I don’t mind food poisoning, I mean, it was only that one time, and the other time was an allergic reaction, and how would you have known? And it was, you know, like, three hundred and sixty five days apart, so not that big of a deal. And it was good going down--”

Quinn groaned in anguish and buried her face into Rachel’s shoulder. “Rachel!”

“And, you know, it was only a broken wrist. You didn’t mean to do it. And like, I didn’t lose my eye or anything that first time. You just kind of poked it. And hitting me in the head with a baseball bat could happen to _anyone_. I didn’t die. And it really wasn’t that hard because you don’t have much upper body strength. I have great dental insurance, so cracking my tooth wasn’t a big deal. It was an old car anyway, and then I got Vanessa. And you know how much I love Vanessa. I was the one that let you drink too much, so I sort of deserved to get thrown up on. It wasn’t my whole apartment that you set fire to. It was just in the kitchen. And _anyone_ could have flooded my apartment.”

Quinn rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder, not at all comforted and not at all amused by the way her girlfriend sounded so thoroughly amused. After all, Rachel wasn’t the one who ruined the last _ten_ consecutive Valentine’s Days.

“I think maybe we should just spend this Valentine’s Day apart for your own safety,” Quinn grumbled.

Rachel pulled away and put her hands on her hips. “That is unacceptable,” she declared. “It’s Valentine’s Day and we’re a couple.”

“It’s a Hallmark holiday!”

“That’s what I tried to tell you ten years ago!”

“Well, then. You should be glad I finally came around to share your opinion!”

Rachel leaned in close and kissed Quinn’s neck. “I have an idea,” she declared. “On Valentine’s Day, you’re mine.”

Quinn looked at Rachel skeptically. “I’m already yours. What makes your idea so different?”

Rachel grinned at her impishly and Quinn felt something twist in her chest, because there was a picture she kind of swiped (read: totally stole) from Rachel’s dads when Rachel was maybe three years old and standing on her front lawn, holding an Easter egg basket (why a tiny Jewish child was holding an _Easter_ basket, Quinn had no idea) and smiling that exact same smile. It was ridiculous how much she loved this girl, it really was. And Quinn knew that there was no way she could spend a day apart from Rachel, if she didn’t have to-- even if it was highly likely that she would somehow disfigure or hobble Rachel.

“This year,” Rachel declared. “We’ll do what I plan. I can’t believe we didn’t think about it years ago, but we were still trying to break the cycle.”

Quinn bit her lip. “You’re not going to like, make us tie ourselves to a tree in Oregon to protest cutting down trees or something, are you?”

Rachel crossed her arms. “No,” she huffed. “And it was just that one time!”

Quinn smirked. “Okay,” she said. “Fine. This year, you plan it out.”

Rachel held her pinky out. “Swear.”

Quinn held her pinky out and hooked it with Rachel’s. “I swear.”

Rachel pushed her thumb on that hand toward Quinn. “Okay, now seal it.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, but pushed the pad of her thumb against Rachel’s. “Sealed.”

“Okay,” Rachel said triumphantly. “Come on, we need to go to the grocery store.”

“Okay,” Quinn said with a smile.

They got their coats and scarves on and headed out the door. Once they arrived at the grocery store, Quinn turned to Rachel and smiled. “Okay, since I always injure you on Valentine’s Day, I should probably start making it up to you now,” she said with sheepish grin. “Hold on,” she said. She got out of the car, ran around the back to the other side and opened up the passenger side door. “My lady,” she declared dramatically.

Rachel giggled and stepped out.

Quinn smiled and pushed the door closed.

At the exact moment, Rachel spotted her phone on the seat. “Wait,” she said, moving to retrieve her phone.

Quinn shrieked as she shut the door of Rachel’s fingers.

Rachel winced and felt tears of pain prick her eyes. She looked at her fingers and flexed. It hurt, but it was okay. And Quinn really hadn’t shut the door that hard. She thought about teasing Quinn, making a comment about how the Jinx Fairy had visited early that year, so maybe Valentine’s Day would be safe. But Quinn looked like she was about to burst into tears. So instead, she smiled at Quinn despite the fact that Rachel kind of wanted to cry herself.

She cautiously put her arm around Quinn’s waist and leaned her head against Quinn’s upper arm, since that’s where her head reached. “That was my fault,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have tried to reach for it when you were closing the door.”

Quinn pouted. “You better have a really good idea,” she muttered.

\--

Valentine’s Day 2010

It was a Sunday.

Quinn was pregnant and single, Rachel was single, Mercedes was single, Tina was contrite and single and Brittany and Santana were… BrittanyandSantana.

It was Rachel’s bright idea to have a single glee ladies’ night gathering after failing to convince Quinn that Valentine’s Day was really a made-up holiday by Hallmark and the blonde really shouldn’t be so sad about being single. Brittany and Santana respectfully (respectfully because it was Brittany who called to politely decline-- Santana was shouting, “tell them we have better things to do than a sad single ladies’ night!) begged off.

Quinn was playing with a large rubber band she found on Rachel’s desk. She wrapped one end on her pinky and brought it around to hook on her thumb and made a gun out of her hand. Puck taught her to do this when they were in third grade together. She was never very good at it though, even though technically it was supposed to go where she aimed it with her index finger. She let it go before she was ready and she shrieked as it hurled across the room towards Rachel’s face.

Rachel caught it in hand, inches away from her left eye and looked at Quinn wryly.

“Sorry,” Quinn said sheepishly.

Rachel smiled at her and then turned her hand into a gun with the rubber band hooked in her pinky and thumb. She pointed it toward Quinn, but not _at_ Quinn, since Quinn was, of course, pregnant and released it. It hurled with surprising speed and hit Rachel’s bed’s headboard with a solid smack.

“Bang,” Rachel said with a grin. She tilted her hand up and blew into her index finger, miming the smoking gun gesture.

Quinn couldn’t help but smile back. She felt something stir in her belly, and it wasn’t the baby.

Hours later, when Quinn played a rousing game of MASH (Marriage-Apartment-Shack-House) with Rachel, she eyed Rachel suspiciously as the brunette read her alleged future to her.

Rachel grinned at her. “Okay,” she declared. “You will marry, ‘the person that’s been right in front of me but I don’t know is right for me yet.” Rachel paused. “I guess I should have changed the ‘I’ to ‘you,’” she said thoughtfully. “You will have seven children, you will live in an apartment in Syosset, New York. You will drive a yellow Yugo.”

Rachel grinned again, and Quinn thought about how much Rachel’s face had not changed. There was a framed picture in the Berrys’ foyer of Rachel at perhaps age three holding an Easter basket on her front lawn (what she was doing holding an Easter basket when she was Jewish, Quinn had no idea). Rachel at age three had the most mischievous grin ever, and it was clear that baby had been up to something in that picture. Now at sixteen, Rachel had the same mischievous grin and Quinn was sure that the results had somehow been stacked against her, even though that was sort of ridiculous.

“Did you cheat?” Quinn asked suspiciously.

Rachel frowned. “I resent the accusation,” she said simply.

“I am _not_ going to live in an apartment in Syosset and drive a yellow Yugo or have seven children. I am giving this one up for adoption and having seven more children means that I would have had eight children and I am _not_ going to be that person. I am _not_ going to be an Octomom! And I’m going to live in a house, not an apartment and I am _not_ going to be with that’ person that’s been right in front of me but I don’t know is right for me’ yet, because I added that as a joke, and you can’t marry a joke. And anyway, that would imply that the person I marry is from _Lima_.” Quinn made a face that is commonly associated with possessing a very keen sense of smell and then smelling something terrible. “I am not going to marry someone from Lima!”

Rachel calmly listened to Quinn’s rant and once the blonde was done with her pregnancy hormone infused rant, she smiled at Quinn. “You do realize this is a children’s game, right?” she asked gently. “And not an accurate fortune telling device?”

“You cheated to give me that result!” Quinn accused.

Rachel was exasperated. “Why would I care about your future enough to cheat on a children’s game about it?” she asked reasonably.

For whatever reason, that offended Quinn more than anything else. She held up her hand indignantly to give Rachel a piece of her mind. But unfortunately, it was also the hand that was holding a freshly sharpened yellow number two pencil with an unused pink eraser at the end. Quinn put her hand up so quickly that the pencil went sailing out of her fingers.

Quinn watched in horrified slow motion as the pencil went sailing towards Rachel’s face.

Quinn, Mercedes and Tina shrieked as the pencil’s point hit Rachel in the eye.

One emergency room trip later, Quinn was assured that Rachel was _not_ going to be a Cyclops.

The next day, Quinn bought a pack of children’s Pirates of the Caribbean valentines that were on sale for 50% off . She only needed one, but they were so cheap she just bought the whole packet. It was a school holiday, so she didn’t get to give Rachel the valentine until Tuesday.

Quinn approached Rachel at the brunette’s locker. Rachel was still wearing the eye patch she would be forced to wear for that entire week. Rachel was ignoring the snickers from the other students, but when Quinn approached her, Rachel looked wary. At least, as wary as anyone could with only one good eye.

“Here,” Quinn said, blushing. She shoved the valentine at Rachel.

“What is it?” Rachel asked irritably. “Is it going to jump out at me and blind my other eye?”

Quinn felt guilty, but anytime she felt guilty, she tended to lash out. “Does it _look_ like some stupid pop-up?” she demanded. “Just take it.”

Rachel heaved a deep sigh, but took it.

Quinn walked away and Rachel opened the envelope. It was a Pirates of the Caribbean valentine. It read “You’re a Swashbuckling Valentine!” on the front. On the back, under the “To” and “From” portion, Quinn wrote, ’I’m sorry about your eye.’

Rachel sighed and tucked the valentine into her locker. She found Quinn at lunch.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Rachel said kindly. “It’s not even the worst Valentine’s Day I ever had.”

Quinn looked at her skeptically. “So what was the worst Valentine’s Day you ever had?”

Rachel just smiled crookedly at her and walked away.  
\--

Valentine’s Day 2011

It was a Monday.

Quinn was single. Rachel was resentful and single after a break-up with a singer from Vocal Adrenaline that no one liked anyway, so everyone was glad he was gone. Mercedes had a boyfriend. Tina was with Artie (finally), and Brittany and Santana were still… BrittanyandSantana.

“We’ll do another singles’ girls’ night at your house,” Quinn suggested.

Rachel balked. “That’s for losers. Only single, dateless people have to resort to that.”

“Newsflash. We’re both single and dateless. And possibly, we’re both losers.”

Rachel gave Quinn a dirty look. “It’s a Hallmark holiday.”

“Well, you always dress like Valentine’s Day threw up on you, so you’re prepared.”

“Fine,” Rachel huffed.

Quinn followed Rachel home after school, and they spent a couple hours working on their homework and studying. Then they painted each other’s toenails, ordered a pizza, listened to breakup songs, prank-called Brittany and Santana (but hung up when Santana caught on to who they were and threatened to wallop them), and watched a series of sappy movies.

It was still a school night, however, and at eight pm, Quinn dutifully realized she had to go home to her grandmother’s house, with whom she was living since her father kicked her out. Rachel walked with her down the stairs with the intention to walk Quinn to the door. Quinn felt herself misstep and blindly reached out to steady herself. On Rachel.

Quinn shrieked as she watched Rachel fall, and reached out to grab Rachel. She caught the brunette, but Rachel still hit the ground. But at least Rachel didn’t fall down the stairs, which she definitely would have, if Quinn hadn’t caught her.

Rachel swung her arm out to break her fall and there was a loud yelp of pain.

One emergency room trip later, Quinn was assured that Rachel was not going to die. It was just a broken wrist.

“It could have happened to anyone,” Rachel said.

“Really,” one of Rachel’s fathers assured.

“The stairs can be slippery,” Rachel’s other father chimed in.

Quinn was glad she still had the Pirates of the Caribbean valentines from the year before. She went home, dug them out from her bottom drawer, bit her lip and chose one. It read “Have an adventurous Valentine’s Day!” Next to “To” she wrote “Rachel” and next to “From” she wrote ”Quinn.” Underneath that she wrote “I’m sorry,” and really and truly meant it.

Rachel missed school the next day, what with the broken wrist and all. Quinn visited her after school and Rachel looked at her warily, but invited her inside. She passed Rachel the valentine.

Rachel took it and pocketed it. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll just add it to the collection,” she joked.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said contritely.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Rachel said kindly. “It’s not even the worst Valentine’s Day I ever had.”

Quinn looked at her dubiously. “Then what was?”

Rachel blushed. “None of your business.”

\--

Valentine’s Day 2012

It was a Tuesday. Quinn had a boyfriend. Rachel had a date, but it was a secret. Mercedes was still with her boyfriend. Tina was still with Artie and Brittany and Santana were, of course, BrittanyandSantana.

Rachel took a call from Quinn in the middle of eating a stuffed mushroom appetizer.

“He broke up with me,” Quinn sobbed.

“Hold on, sweetie,” Rachel told her. She looked at her date and smiled apologetically. “It’s Quinn. I have to go.”

He looked irritated. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I thought we were going to try to make this work.”

“She’s my friend.”

“She can’t call anyone else?”

“She already called me,” Rachel said, no longer apologetic, but completely irritated. She thought about how everyone in glee called him “The Tool from Vocal Adrenaline,” even Mike, who was just the _nicest_ guy in the entire world. She wondered why she ever gave him a second chance. Her daddy was right, Berrys were just fools for love. She was glad she drove herself to the restaurant to meet him rather than having him pick her up the way he wanted.

“Don’t call me,” she snapped at him as she left the table.

She drove to Quinn’s grandmother’s house and Quinn answered the door, red-faced and crying.

“I can’t believe Jeff broke up with me on Valentine’s Day!” Quinn sobbed.

Rachel hugged her. “What a jerk.”

“We were supposed to go to dinner,” Quinn said, still mostly crying rather than talking. “But he came over to break up with me!”

“What a jerk,” Rachel said. “Do you want me to beat him up?”

Quinn sniffled. “Can you?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Rachel said. “I’m short-statured, but scrappy.”

Quinn managed a smile and then frowned. She looked at the way Rachel was dressed-- short black, strapless dress. Red heels. Her hair was done, her make-up was perfect.

“Were you on a date?” Quinn demanded.

Rachel blushed. “No,” she denied.

“Oh my God! You were on a date!” Quinn said. “With who?”

Rachel blushed even deeper. She crossed her arms over her chest, making her cleavage even more pronounced. Quinn realized she was staring.

“No one,” Rachel muttered, not meeting Quinn’s eyes.

“Tell me who!” Quinn demanded, temporarily forgetting about her jerk boyfriend Jeff. Make that her jerk _ex_ -boyfriend, Jeff. Jeff the Jerk. Jerky Jeff. Jerk Jeff. Jeff the Jerk Jock. Jeff the Jerk Jock _Joke_!

Now she was curious about who Rachel had a date with-- the brunette said she didn’t have plans that night, that she was just going to stay at home. It was the reason why Quinn called Rachel, because supposedly, Rachel was the only one without Valentine’s Day plans. But apparently, Rachel had been holding out on her. And Quinn had to admit, that sort of hurt her feelings.

“I didn’t have a date!”

“Oh, right, because you were going to stay at home all night dressed like that!”

“Well, maybe this is my idea of single woman’s empowerment! I look nice for no one but myself!”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Oh my God! You went out with the Tool from Vocal Adrenaline!”

“He has a name!”

“Ha!” Quinn said triumphantly. “So you were!” She thought it was ridiculous how Rachel always defended that guy. “I can’t believe you went out with the Tool from Vocal Adrenaline _again_!”

“He has a name!”

“Tool from Vocal Adrenaline is more accurate!”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad.”

Quinn shook her head. “You and I have very definitions of what that means,” she declared.

After two hours of crying, ripping up pictures of Jeff the Jerk, Quinn decided it was time to box up anything that belonged to Jeff. She got a box and hurled in his Calculus book, pair of balled up socks (gross), a jacket she borrowed because she was cold, a jacket he accidentally left behind, some CDs and a couple of books he lent her. Rachel followed her, making approving comments and congratulating Quinn for being more mature than to rip up everything that belonged to him. Rachel critiqued Jeff’s tastes in music and books and declared that Quinn was much better off without him.

Rachel followed Quinn to Quinn’s car as the blonde decided to get anything and everything that belonged to the jerk out of her car.

“He’s always leaving his gross cleats and his stupid baseball crap in my car,” Quinn complained. “I’m glad he broke up with me! Now my car can stop smelling like a sweaty boy. It’s so gross!”

“It is,” Rachel agreed. “Sweaty teenaged boys have this goat-like smell.”

“I know, right?” Quinn said. She picked up his cleats by the laces, holding them gingerly as if they were diseased. “So gross,” she declared as she hurled his cleats onto the sidewalk next to her car. She picked up his glove and shook it in Rachel’s face. “He’s all like, ‘Oh, I’m the first baseman, I’m so important, it’s so hard!’” she said. She mimed the action of catching a baseball and throwing it. Then she threw the glove next to the cleats. “What’s the big deal about baseball anyway?” She picked up the aluminum bat.

Rachel stepped back warily. “Quinn--”

“I mean, a monkey can swing a bat!”Quinn said, stepping far enough away from the car, but not far enough away from Rachel. “A monkey!”

“Quinn--” Rachel said, scrambling backward, but her heels were too high for her to go very fast.

Quinn swung the bat. It hit Rachel in the head.

Quinn shrieked. Rachel cried.

One emergency room trip later, Quinn was assured that Rachel was not going to die and she was not brain-damaged either. Rachel was glad she was hard-headed and that Quinn didn’t have much upper body strength, being a skinny pretty blonde had its perks for other people, too, apparently.

Quinn went home and dug out her old Pirates of the Caribbean Valentine’s Day cards. She didn’t know why she kept them, except that it came with 32 of them and she felt sort of bad about throwing them away. So she kept them. She chose the one that read “It’s a Pirate’s Life for Me, Valentine!”

Once again, she wrote “I’m sorry” but this time, she wrote, “I am _so_ sorry.”

She gave it to Rachel the next day at school.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging Rachel and holding on.

It’s been truly frightening, because she couldn’t get the image of the way Rachel crumpled to the floor out of her mind. Rachel didn’t lose consciousness or anything, and she didn’t even so much as have a concussion, but there was a big bump on her head, and those first few seconds when Rachel was too dazed to respond to her frantic questions was some of the scariest of her life. Rachel recovered within a couple minutes and insisted she was fine, but Quinn was completely spooked by that news story about Natasha Richardson’s seemingly benign head injury that ultimately killed her, and she drove Rachel to the hospital immediately.

“It’s okay,” Rachel murmured.

“I could have killed you.”

Quinn thought about the way Rachel kept saying her name, as if to warn her. But she’d been so angry about stupid Jerk Jeff, that she was too engrossed in her rant to notice Rachel, or where she was standing or anything. She felt so fucking guilty for stepping far enough away from her car but not far enough away from _Rachel_ that Quinn just wanted to curl into a ball and die.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Rachel whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said again. She felt Rachel try to pull away but Quinn held on. “I’m so sorry.”

Rachel chuckled. “I’ll just add this valentine to the collection.”

(After the following Valentine’s Day, Rachel never said those words again. She thought it would be like daring God.)

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispered. She held on tighter to Rachel.

Rachel stroked her hair. “Hey, it wasn’t even the worst Valentine’s Day I ever had, okay?”

Quinn chuckled through her tears. “When are you going to tell me about the worst one, huh?”

Rachel laughed. “None of your business.”

\--

Valentine’s Day 2013

It was a Thursday.

 

They lived together in a tiny apartment that was close enough to NYU and Julliard that neither of them has to resent the other for being the person who has a shorter commute. It was a one-bedroom apartment that they have to share because they couldn’t afford anything else, and neither of them could abide the idea of having help from home. There were two beds in the bedroom that just barely fit and there was a constant battle over closet space. The apartment was always a mess because there are clothes and shoes _everywhere_ and not much of anything else.

They were both single.

“We should just hang out here,” Quinn suggested. “I mean, if we go out, it’s going to be way too much money. I get home from class early today. I’ll make us dinner.”

“Okay,” Rachel agreed, because although Rachel can follow a recipe and make a decent meal, it’s already been determined that Quinn is the cook and Rachel is the cleaner in this little arrangement.

Quinn left class early to go grocery shopping, came home and immediately got to work.

She thought about how Rachel had become one of her best friends and how much she genuinely _adored_ the hell out of Rachel. Rachel was still occasionally lacking in social grace (okay, she lacked it _a lot_ ) and she was annoying as hell sometimes, but there was no one who was a better friend, no one who was more loyal to her or dependable. Yeah, maybe being loyal, reliable and dependable was the sort of thing people looked for when car shopping or voting for a Congressman or whatever, but those qualities were important to Quinn. So even though Rachel could get cranky and sullen sometimes (an only child who never had to share a room or anything else for that matter? Sharing a room was hell for Rachel) and needed a lot of space, Rachel never let that get in the way when Quinn really needed her. That meant a lot to Quinn. And Rachel just had this way of…well, there were a lot of days when Rachel looked like she didn’t want to smile or laugh, maybe some professor shook up her faith in herself or she didn’t get a part or whatever, but Rachel always went out of her way to cheer Quinn up if Quinn needed it, even when Rachel was feeling down herself. She loved that about Rachel.

Quinn wasn’t in _love_ exactly. Although she did love Rachel, and she knew Rachel loved her, too, because Rachel had told her so.

“You get on my nerves,” Rachel declared to her in absolute frustration one day a few months before. The brunette’s fists were clenched at her sides. “You took _my_ last Diet Coke and I was _dying_ for it all day.” She sighed. “But I love you anyway.”

Quinn grinned. “I love you, too.”

She wasn’t in love with Rachel, but Quinn felt a pull there. She didn’t know what she was going to do about it. But she knew that at the moment, there was _no one_ on the planet she wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with other than Rachel, and she was glad, really and honestly glad that they were both single, so that they could spend it together.

Rachel came home and declared that their apartment smelled _so_ good. They started eating thirty minutes later. Rachel gushed over how good everything was and how fantastic everything smelled.

Rachel spooned a basil pesto onto her plate and scooped it onto her bread. She ate approximately a tablespoon of it when she put down her fork, looking red and worried.

“Quinn,” she rasped.

Quinn looked at Rachel in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Were there pine nuts in the pesto?” she wheezed. She coughed.

Quinn frowned. “Pesto is traditionally made with pine nuts, Rachel. I didn’t put them in last time because we didn’t have any, but I went to the grocery store and---”

“I’m allergic,” Rachel gasped out. She took in a strangled breath. “I think you should call an ambulance,” she said weakly.

Quinn started to laugh. “You’re kidding, right?” she demanded. Her grin faded as she watched Rachel put her head on the table, struggling to take air. “Oh my God!”

Quinn ran to the phone and called 911 and sobbed about how she’d probably killed her friend. She gave the dispatcher their address and apartment number and then sat down next to Rachel was trembling and red. She was still having problems breathing. She stroked Rachel’s hair, “it’s going to be okay,” she cried, wishing she were calm and not crying like a little girl. “Just…stay calm.”

Rachel’s eyes were panicked. She was supposed to carry around an epi pen with her at all times, but she didn’t anymore. God, she felt so stupid. She was at _home_ and she didn’t have an epi pen. God, she was so stupid. She was going to die in their apartment. She just knew it. She felt a weird sense of calm. It was sixteen years to the day when she first discovered her allergy to pine nuts. It was weirdly fitting.

Rachel kept her head on the table. She was too dizzy to raise her head. “Quinn, I love you,” she choked out in a whisper. Then she closed her eyes.

“Rachel!” Quinn said frantically. She didn’t know what to do.

The ambulance appeared moments later and Quinn burst into tears at the sight of an Epinephrine injection into Rachel’s thigh. Rachel responded to it immediately and Quinn felt like she was breathing for the first time in her entire life.

One frantic ambulance ride to the emergency room later, Quinn was assured that Rachel was not going to die.

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispered, taking Rachel’s hand in hers as she sat next to Rachel’s hospital bed.

Rachel grinned at her. “This feels like déjà vu, huh?”

Quinn burst into tears. “This is our Valentine’s Day tradition,” she sobbed. “I’m a jinx!”

Rachel’s eyes widened in alarm. “It’s not that bad!”

“You’re in the hospital! _Again_!”

“It could have happened with anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen with anyone, it happened with _me_.”

Rachel gave Quinn a smile that Quinn found ridiculously charming given that just a few hours before, Rachel was face down on the table, unable to breathe. And the fact that Rachel still had hives.

“There is no one,” she declared, her voice low. “In the world I’d rather have put me in the hospital than you,” Rachel joked.

Quinn laughed through her tears. “Why didn’t you tell me you were allergic to pine nuts?”

Rachel shrugged. “It never came up. I watched you make the pesto last time and thought you just didn’t put pine nuts in.”

Quinn wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said with a grin. She wanted to make a joke and say that she was used to it, but she was pretty sure that would just make Quinn cry more. So instead she squeezed Quinn’s hand. “It’s okay,” she repeated. “Because we’re friends and I love you. And you love me. So it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I really do love you.”

Rachel smiled. “I really do love you, too.”

Quinn thought about Rachel gasping out, “I love you” while they were still in their apartment. Seconds later, Rachel was unresponsive and clearly _not_ breathing, and Quinn thought it was the end of the world and wanted to crawl off somewhere and die. Then the paramedics came and everything was okay again.

Quinn held Rachel’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. “I’m really glad you’re going to be okay,” she whispered.

Rachel grinned good-naturedly. “I’m kind of glad of that myself,” she joked.

“This is _horrible_ ,” Quinn moaned.

“Hey, it’s not even the worst one I ever had,” Rachel said.

Quinn looked at her doubtfully. “Okay, seriously? What the _hell_ was your worst Valentine’s Day?”

“I was three,” Rachel said with a smile. “It was Valentine’s Day, but my dads were separated at the time. I was with Daddy for the weekend and that’s when we found out I was allergic to pine nuts because I ate, like, an entire container.”

Quinn shivered slightly. “Yeah? Did you have to go to the hospital then, too?”

Rachel nodded. “And it was a lot worse than this.” She squeezed Quinn’s hand reassuringly. “So, it’s not that bad, okay? Don’t feel bad about it.”

Rachel was released a few hours later and they walked into the apartment quietly. Rachel got into her bed to sleep a little more and Quinn crawled in next to her, spooning her.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel whispered back. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Quinn’s grip on Rachel tightened and she pressed a kiss to Rachel’s shoulder, the space where it met Rachel’s neck. Rachel shivered slightly and Quinn held on even closer. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

When Rachel woke up, Quinn was cleaning up the apartment from the night before. There was another Pirates of the Caribbean valentine. Rachel tended to make fun of Quinn’s inability to throw anything away, but at the moment, Rachel was thankful for it.

“Welcome Aboard, Valentine,” it read.

This time, instead of “I’m sorry,” Quinn had written “I love you.”

Rachel found Quinn washing dishes at the sink. She came up behind and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist. “Permission to come aboard?”

Quinn’s lips turned up into a slow grin. She set the dish in the sink and rinsed her hands before she turned around to face Rachel. “Permission’s already been granted.”

Rachel grinned. “See? This wasn’t so bad.”

Quinn groaned and buried her face into Rachel’s shoulder.  
\--

Valentine’s Day 2014

It was a Friday.

It was their first real Valentine’s Day as a couple, and it was also the first Valentine’s Day in a few years that actually took place on a weekend day rather than a weekday. That meant there was no worrying about having to get to class the next morning or going to work or anything. Just a nice, romantic Valentine’s Day.

They still lived in the same apartment, but now their two beds have been moved out for one big one that they share.

Quinn was determined to break her streak of bad luck on Valentine’s Day. Quinn thought about the past four, and how each of them have ended with Rachel going to the hospital-- she poked Rachel in the eye with a pencil, she broke Rachel’s wrist, she hit Rachel in the head with a baseball bat and she gave Rachel an allergic reaction. Quinn was determined to break the cycle.

Neither of them had much money, so once again, they decided to stay in together. Quinn woke up Rachel sitting down on the bed.

“I got breakfast,” Rachel declared.

“You cooked?”

“Please,” Rachel snorted. “Anyway, we both have a 9am class, so it’s just bagels, cream cheese, fruit and coffee from the deli downstairs. But you like their food. So I…” Rachel blushed and trailed off.

Quinn grinned and pressed a kiss to Rachel’s cheek. She was still too self-conscious about morning breath to kiss Rachel in the morning before she brushed her teeth. “Thanks,” she said sincerely.

“I toasted your bagel already,” Rachel said. “I put the toaster on setting three, because you prefer it that way. And I can get you anything else you want, it’s just that we don’t really have time in the mornings and--”

“You’re cute,” Quinn interrupted with a murmur.

They ate together quickly because they did have morning classes to get to and all.

“Okay,” Quinn said. “So you’ll come straight home after work?”

Rachel smiled at her. “Of course.” It really wasn’t a _job_ , it was just a paid internship at Sony that one of her professors at Julliard hooked her up with. But it was an _amazing_ opportunity and it paid, even though the pay was bupkis.

After Valentine’s Day last year, Quinn demanded that Rachel make a list of all known allergies, but Rachel insisted that pine nuts were the only thing she was allergic to. Still, it took a few months for Quinn’s heart not to clench with anxiety every time they ate at home together-- which was a lot.

Quinn beat Rachel home, as she tended to do most weekdays. She got down to work, preparing a meal that she researched on the Food Network’s website for weeks.

They sat down to dinner, grinning at one another and have an innuendo-laced conversation.

Everything seemed to be okay for a couple of hours until Quinn woke up to find she was alone in bed. She heard retching coming from their bathroom and scrambled out of bed to find Rachel in tears, sitting in front of the toilet. She put her hand on Rachel’s feverish forehead, thought about last year’s debacle, got spooked and ran next door to ask their neighbor, Evan, with the car to drive them to the Emergency Room.

“How come I got food poisoning and you didn’t?” Rachel demanded as they came home together.

Quinn was contrite. “It was that last mussel. The one you had a hard time opening. The doctor said we should have thrown that one away.”

Rachel was huffy. “The one you insisted I eat even though I said I was too full?”

Quinn pouted. “I’m sorry.”

Rachel smiled at her. “It _is_ that bad,” she teased, bumping Quinn’s hip with her own. “You’re just lucky I love you.”

“So was this the worst Valentine’s Day ever?”

Rachel smiled at her. “No,” she declared hugging Quinn.

\--

Valentine’s Day 2015

It was a Saturday.

They have broken up and have each left their tiny apartment for separate, larger apartments. The break-up was mutual, but not quite amicable. Still, they made an effort to remain friends, and they make an ill-advised decision to spend Valentine’s Day together. Their mutual friends warned them that it was insanity, but they ignored the advice and comments-- after all, they’d spent Valentine’s Day together for years.

“Haven’t all of them ended up with you putting her in the hospital?” Lauren, Quinn’s friend asked her.

Quinn blushed. “It could have happened to anyone!” she protested.

Lauren raised her eyebrows. “Well, you have to give Rachel some credit. If some girl put _me_ in the hospital over the past five Valentine’s Days, I would have barricaded myself into a panic room and never spoken to her again.”

Quinn crossed her arms in a huff. “It could have happened to anyone!” she repeated.

Quinn arrived at Rachel’s apartment at 7:00pm on Valentine’s Day. Rachel opened the door and pulled her inside, her smile so wide and bright that Quinn wondered what the hell she was thinking when she agreed that breaking up was for the best. She missed that smile.

“Come in,” Rachel said, taking Quinn by the hand. She rubbed Quinn’s hands. “Your hands are cold,” she commented. “Why didn’t you wear gloves?”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t find any, and I was going to be late. You know how you are about punctuality.”

Rachel’s smile was wry. “Yes, because I’d rather you be hypothermic and punctual rather than warm and late.”

Quinn smiled back. “I think you really need to think about it.”

Rachel grinned. “I do vacillate,” she admitted. “Hold on,” she said. “Let me get some gloves for you.” Rachel started to walk toward her bedroom.

“Remember to give me ones that are adult sizes, not the children’s sizes you’re forced to wear!”

Rachel turned to give her a dirty look, but it was clear she was more amused than anything else.

Rachel returned with a pair of gloves and a scarf. She passed the gloves to Quinn who put them on. Then Rachel wrapped the scarf around Quinn’s scarf-less neck.

Quinn swallowed hard and stared at Rachel as the brunette secured the scarf.

Rachel touched Quinn’s cheek and smiled. “Now you can be warm _and_ punctual,” she teased.

Quinn checked Rachel’s purse to make sure Rachel was bringing an epi pen, just in case. They Rachel put on her scarf and gloves and they left Rachel’s apartment so they could make it to their 8pm dinner reservations.

The dinner went smoothly, and Quinn thought that maybe finally, the Valentine’s Day curse was broken. She followed Rachel back to her apartment and they sat on the couch watching movies and talking quietly.

“You want some tea?” Quinn asked softly. “I’ll go make us some tea.”

Rachel smiled at her. “Sure,” she said.

Quinn looked in the cupboards and found one pink mug with a heart handle. It was part of a matching set and Quinn looked around for the other one. Rachel had purchased them when they were still a couple and living together, and Rachel had taken them with her the day the brunette moved out of their apartment. That action had hurt Quinn’s feelings more than she wanted to let on, and although she knew it was stupid and probably way too telling she really wanted to use one of them. She wanted _both_ of t hem to use it. She found the other one in the sink anda part of her was gratified that Rachel had used it. She washed it with soap and rinsed it. She grabbed a paper towel to dry off the mug. She put water in the kettle and put the stove on. Then she walked back to the couch where Rachel was waiting for her.

It was a couple of minutes later that Rachel smelled smoke.

She glanced at the kitchen and saw smoke.

“Shit!” Rachel exclaimed. She leaped to her feet and ran into the kitchen.

Quinn sat up and looked toward the kitchen in horror. “Shit!” she shrieked and ran after Rachel.

She’d left the paper towel she used to dry off the mug too close to the stove, and there must have been an errant spark or something from the stove, because now the paper towel was on fire.

Quinn grabbed a glass of water that was sitting on the counter to pour it on the stove as Rachel was unscrewing the cap off her five gallon bottle of water that was sitting next to her water cooler.

“No!” Rachel shouted as Quinn poured the contents of the glass over the flames.

To Quinn’s horror, rather than subduing the flames, the flames only became more ignited.

Rachel ran over, hefting the enormous five gallon bottle and poured it over her stove. The flames went out.

“It was vodka,” Rachel admitted with a blush. “I was nervous about hanging out with you tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said morosely.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Rachel said sweetly. She hugged her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Valentine’s Day 2016

It was a Sunday

They came back to Rachel’s apartment, triumphant.

“Yes!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Curse has been bro-ken!” Quinn said victoriously.

They exchanged high-fives, and they didn’t even mind that they missed the first time and had to try again.

Rachel wrapped her arm around Quinn’s waist and pulled the blonde in close. “It is 12:30am on February 15th, and nothing bad happened!”

Quinn grinned at her. “Yeah!”

Rachel entered into the apartment first, Quinn following behind her. They slipped their shoes off, left them by the door and they walked into the living room. Rachel frowned. The floor was…wet.

“Shit!” Rachel exclaimed, turning on the lamp in her living room.

There was water everywhere and it was coming from the bathroom. Rachel turned back to glance at Quinn suspiciously. The blonde had been the last person to use the bathroom, right before they left.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said, defeated

Rachel sighed. “Let’s try again next year.”

Quinn glanced around the apartment and looked like she wanted to cry.

Rachel put her arm around Quinn, soothingly. “It’s okay,” she comforted. “It’s not that bad.” Then she ran to the bathroom to check on whatever the hell was flooding her apartment.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn called after her morosely. She wished she’d kept that damn Pirates of the Caribbean valentine cards, rather than letting Rachel convince her that she wouldn’t need them anymore.

\--

Valentine’s Day 2017

It was a Tuesday

Rachel bit her lip in amusement at Quinn drank her third after-dinner glass of wine. She gave up trying to warn Quinn about all the drinks she was having because she was tired of the dirty looks the blonde gave her every time she tried. Quinn would undoubtedly have a hangover in the morning, and Rachel was looking forward to making fun of Quinn for it.

“I’m a jinx,” Quinn slurred declaratively.

“You’re not a jinx,” Rachel told her softly.

“Why are you even with me?” Quinn asked.

“Let’s go,” Rachel said with a sigh. That was a definite sign that Quinn was way _way_ over her limit. She stood up, helped Quinn stand up and walked her outside the restaurant.

Rachel helped Quinn into Sloane, the beloved beat-up car, Rachel purchased the year before when she graduated from Julliard. It was not in the best condition when she bought it, and Rachel wasn’t known for being a great driver. After the kitchen fire of 2015 and the flood of 2016, Rachel and Quinn thought it was best if they just moved in together. Rachel drove them home and was amused that Quinn seemed to totally miss the fact that nothing bad had happened that Valentine’s Day, despite the fact that Quinn seemed completely fixated on the fact she was a Valentine’s Day jinx. Granted Quinn was pretty drunk and this wasn’t the _ideal_ way to spend Valentine’s Day, but Rachel definitely had worse ones with Quinn. And it still wasn’t then worst Valentine’s Day she’d ever had.

“You never answered my question,” Quinn said as they drove home.

“What was your question?”

“Why are you even with me?” Quinn asked, sniffling. “I’ve ruined your Valentine’s Day every year since we were in high school.”

“To be fair, we weren’t even together for the first few of those,” Rachel pointed out mildly.

“But I still liked you!” Quinn exclaimed. She was crying by this point, although this was because she was drunkenly sentimental, and drunkenly sentimental people tended to cry.

Rachel grinned in amusement. She looked over at Quinn. “Did you? You liked me as a friend or you liked liked me?”

“I liked liked you,” Quinn blurted. “You were always walking around in those skirts and showing off your legs. And you had really nice…” Quinn blushed and she was temporarily transformed into her sixteen year old self. “Breasts,” she whispered, feeling shy/

Rachel looked down. “Really?” she asked, genuinely pleased. “They aren’t too small?”

Quinn shook her head and leaned toward Rachel eagerly. “They were _perfect_. They’re the perfect size for my mouth.”

Rachel wondered how the hell it was that Quinn could blush saying “breasts” but say something like _that_ as though she were ordering a non-fat cappuccino.

“Well, thank you,” Rachel said, and now she was the one blushing. She smiled at Quinn. “So you liked liked me in high school, eh?” she asked, feeling the need to get back _some_ of the control.

Quinn rested her head on Rachel’s arm as Rachel drove. “You didn’t know?”

“You never told me.”

Quinn’s cheeks were pink. “I thought you knew, because I was always so hard on you. Like a boy who kicks a girl on the playground.”

Rachel’s tone was wry. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t think anyone over the age of eight did that sort of thing when they liked someone.”

Quinn scowled and sat up straight. “Are you gloating because you’re more emotionally mature than me?” she demanded in a drunken slur.  
  
Rachel grinned. “Well, I am more in touch with my emotions,” she said. “But then again, you had the WASP-y upbringing.”

Quinn was genuinely aghast. “I am not a WASP!” she shouted in outrage.

Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Are you or are you not a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, which is the very definition of a WASP?”

“Yeah, but…well, you’re a WAS!”

“I’m not Anglo-Saxon!” Rachel shouted in outrage, as though it were a personal insult.

Quinn looked contemplative. “Oh yeah.”

“Ha,” Rachel said with a triumphant grin.

“And you are _not_ more in touch with emotions than I am,” Quinn said.

“Yes, I am.” Rachel protested. “You grew up in a repressed WASPy home. I had two gay dads who encouraged me to express myself and--”

“When _I’m_ sad,” Quinn interrupted. “I talk to _you_. When _you’re_ sad, you don’t talk to _anyone_ , and you _won’t_ talk to me. You just walk around looking like this.” Quinn’s eyes became plaintive, her forehead furrowed and her mouth became tremulous. It was a very good approximation of Rachel’s wounded puppy look.

Rachel was simultaneously outraged and amused. But they were also home. Rachel parked her car and went around to help Quinn out.

“Baby, you do realize that we went this whole night without anything bad happening, right?” Rachel asked as they walked to their building from their parking space.

Quinn opened her mouth to respond but threw up. On Rachel.

Quinn covered her mouth in horror.

Rachel winced and took off her coat and scarf. “Maybe I’m the jinx.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said with drunken dejection.

“It’s not that bad,” Rachel comforted.

\--

Valentine’s Day 2018

It was a Wednesday

“I want to drive!” Quinn said. “Come on, please. You never let me drive Sloane.”

“You don’t treat her with the respect that she deserves,” Rachel pointed out.

“Come on, _please_?”

“Fine,” Rachel said grudgingly. “Because I love you.”

They got into the car to drive to the restaurant and after a few minutes, Quinn turned to Rachel and smiled. “See, what were you so worried about?”

Rachel looked at her cautiously. “Just focus on the road, okay?”

“You’re an old lady driver,” Quinn declared.

The GPS directions on Rachel’s Garmin told Quinn to turn right.

“Wait, Quinn, this isn’t a street it’s an alley. Don’t--”

But it was too late. Quinn turned right. And instead of hitting the brake, Quinn hit the accelerator. They hit a concrete wall.

It took a few minutes for Quinn to catch her breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her voice squeaking slightly.

“You didn’t even ask me a first time!” Rachel exclaimed in outrage. She started to laugh and rubbed Quinn ‘s shoulder. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m okay,” Quinn said.

“Next year,” Rachel said. “We spend the entire day in bed, that way nothing can go wrong. We’ll barricade ourselves.”

“Deal,” Quinn said. “Swear?” she asked, holding out her pinky.

Rachel hooked her pinky with Quinn’s. “Swear.” She held her thumb out and pushed it towards Quinn. “Seal it.”

“Sealed,” Quinn said.

\--

Valentine’s Day 2019

It was a Thursday

They planned it out for a week in advance. They both took the day off from work, they got bottles of water and set it on Quinn’s nightstand, and bought snacks they could eat in bed. They set books, DVDs and CDs in a towering stack Rachel’s nightstands. They never left the bedroom except to use the bathroom and they spent most of their time in bed. They ordered in lunch _and_ dinner.

And yet, it still ended with Rachel, naked, on the floor next to their bed, clutching her bleeding mouth and Quinn wearing only a nurse’s hat, sitting on her knees the bed, hovering above Rachel, mouth agape.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said morosely.

“It’s not that bad,” Rachel said, wiping her hand across her bleeding mouth. She gingerly used her tongue to touch her cracked tooth and winced.

Rachel learned that there were no 24 hour dentists on Valentine’s Day, at least, not ones she wanted to stay in.  
\--

Valentine’s Day 2020

It was a Friday

Quinn woke up to find Rachel was already gone. There were flowers and a note, but she was still a little disappointed that Rachel had left without waking her up. But it was probably wise, because who knew what calamity she would have accidentally inflicted on Rachel. After all, just a few days before she nearly broke Rachel’s fingers by slamming the door of Rachel’s car, Vanessa, on her.

She opened the note to read it, and bit her lip in amusement.

“Dear Quinn,

It’s your day off, which means you should stay at home. I would love to chain you to our bed to molest you intermittently, but sadly, _I_ don’t have the day off. Don’t leave the apartment, don’t try to cook anything, don’t do a _thing_. The deli from around the corner is going to bring you breakfast at 11:00, and I’ll come home at 3:00 and we can have a late lunch together and after that you’re all mine.”

At exactly 11am, the doorbell rang and Quinn was greeted with a smiling delivery guy from the deli around the corner. She accepted the food and sat down at the breakfast table to eat alone. She wished Rachel were with her. She spent the day watching TV, listening to music, reading and trying to make herself look as pretty as possible. She scrubbed, exfoliated, tweezed, teased everything that could possibly be scrubbed, exfoliated, tweezed and teased.

And at 3pm, Rachel came home with Thai takeaways from Quinn’s favorite Thai restaurant.

“Hey,” Rachel greeted. She kissed Quinn’s cheek. “You look pretty,” she commented. She buried her face in Quinn’s neck and licked Quinn’s neck. “You smell pretty, too.”

“I missed you,” Quinn murmured.

“I missed you, too.”

Quinn looked at Rachel and smiled. “So,” she said, her voice holding a hint of challenge. “What are you big plans?”

Rachel smiled back. “I just have one,” she said. “One thing different to do. One thing different from all the other years.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” she asked drolly. “What haven’t we tried to break the curse? I’m a Valentine’s jinx.”

Rachel smiled at her. “Over the past ten years,” Rachel said. “You’ve poked me in the eye with a pencil, you’ve broken my wrist, you hit me in the head with a baseball bat, you induced anaphylaxis, you gave me food poisoning, you set fire to my apartment and flooded it, you crashed my car, you threw up on me and you cracked my tooth while trying to have sex with me. And all of that was just on Valentine’s Day.”

Quinn blushed. “Are you breaking up with me?” she demanded. “Because that sounds suspiciously like a laundry list to--”

Rachel held up her hand. “But you always stayed up with me while I was sick, bought me candy when I was sad, made me dinner, cleaned up after me even when you didn’t have to, picked up my dry-cleaning, put up with me even when I was unbearable, always made sure I carried around an epi pen, took better care of me than I took care of myself, threw me the best birthday parties, took care of me when I was drunk, fed me when I was hungry and always made me laugh.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said softly. “What--”

“We’ve been good friends since we were sixteen,” Rachel said softly. “And I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even remember if I ever loved anyone else. If I did, it never meant anything. Look, I know you think you’re some kind of Valentine’s Day curse, but--”

“Well, I did injure you for most of them,” Quinn pointed out reasonably.

Rachel chuckled. “Yeah. I know. But Quinn, I swear to you. There was no one else, not for ten years that I’d rather have spent Valentine’s Day with. It’s all been worth it, every single one. Even the ones when we were just friends. And no matter what, we always had a good time until the disaster hit, right?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Right.”

“So we have one bad day every year,” Rachel said.

Quinn raised her eyebrows. “The other three hundred and sixty four aren’t always perfect,” she pointed out.

Rachel grinned. “Okay,” she conceded. “But I wouldn’t have traded any of the past three thousand six hundred and fifty days.” She looked suddenly uncertain. “Would you?”

Quinn’s eyes widened. “No, of course not,” she assured quickly. “Every day, even the bad ones, they’ve been worth it. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

Rachel smiled at her and pulled Quinn in close. “I don’t want to be all cliché. You think flowers are a waste of money because they die. You’re tired of chocolate. And I don’t have the money to fly you off to Paris for a weekend. And every time we try to be elegant or romantic on Valentine’s Day, something always happens. So I’m not going to dare God or the Valentine’s Day spirits or whatever it is that we’ve seemed to have made angry. I’m just going to ask okay? I’m just going to tell you.” Rachel swallowed hard. “I just want you to marry me.”

Quinn pulled back, eyes round with shock. “What?”

Rachel reached into her pocket. “I just want you to marry me. I want you to want to marry me,” she added. She held out the ring to Quinn. “So will you?”

“Yes!” Quinn shouted, throwing herself onto Rachel and clutching onto her. “Of course!”

They hugged for a few minutes and then they broke apart.

Rachel smiled at her and cradled Quinn’s face in her hands. “Put it on.”

Quinn put the ring on, and it was a perfect fit. She held it up. “It’s perfect,” she breathed.

Rachel smiled at her. “It’s the start of a new decade,” Rachel declared. “And I think this is the perfect way to start it, don’t you?”

Quinn nodded eagerly. “A new start,” she declared. She pulled Rachel close. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly. “You’re not just asking me because you’re trying to make me feel better about ruining all those Valentine’s Days?”

Rachel looked amused. “They weren’t so bad.”

“Promise me you’ll never go away,” Quinn said thickly. “Even if every Valentine’s Day we have from now until eternity is a total disaster, promise me you’ll never go away and find someone who hasn’t maimed you or put you in the hospital or crashed your car or ruined your apartment.”

Rachel grinned and held her pinky out. “I swear.”

Quinn grinned back and hooked her pinky to Rachel’s. “Swear.” She pushed her thumb toward Rachel. “Now seal it.”

Rachel smiled and pulled her hand away. She touched Quinn’s cheek. “Okay,” she whispered. She leaned up on her tip toes and covered Quinn’s lips with her own.

They were married exactly one year later, and it went off perfectly.  



End file.
